Bertha

Although I'm the only human in this house, this doesn't mean that I'm completely solitary. There are woodlice scuttling about the place quite a bit, and the odd stupid, doomed moth puts in an appearance during the summer months (especially on those rare occasions when it's warm enough to have to have the windows open).

I don't care for wasps, however. They are the neo-cons of the insect kingdom, in that they'll attack you without any pretext whatsoever, and seem to assume that they have a divine right to do so.

There are also spiders. Like this one:

We are, of course, lucky in these latitudes that we don't have some of the horrendous arachnids found elsewhere (the scrotum-biting dunny-squatters of Australia, for example). So, I'm able to have a relaxed view of the genus in day-to-day contexts.

This one, I call Bertha. Who needs a reason?

She has taken up residence beside a central-heating pipe in my hall. I'm happy enough for her to be there. She seems to find enough to keep her happy, too.

Peaceful co-existence, I call it.